Unbound
by KatStorm
Summary: When Maka Albarn first began to see souls, she didn't expect them to literally rain from the sky the very next day. Max, on the other hand, would really appreciate it if the sun would stop laughing at her.
1. Maximum Ride

_I started this story roughly two months ago and it only recently occurred to me that I have a fanfiction account where I could put this up for all to see. Yup. Kat be derping again._

 _Unbound was a challenge from a friend of mine that I put off for three whole months before throwing myself in headfirst. I was to blend Soul Eater with Maximum Ride, and then have a few certain highlights from prompts. I swear, I never meant for Kill la Kill to nose its way in, but I wanted to borrow a few concepts. And characters. And more concepts. Hence, Unbound was born from the insanity of the merger. In the Maximum Ride world, this takes place roughly around the time the first book starts but Max has the Voice; in Soul Eater, this takes place directly after the prologues (and after the entire plot of Soul Eater NOT!), but the zombie thing with Sid already happened and Stein's now a professor - because I said so! The Kill la Kill timeline doesn't apply, so nobody go rush off to Google the entire plot this instant. Also, characters pulled from all three worlds may be changed at will to fit the plot (not just because I said so.) Another note: chapter names are the character from whose point of view the chapter will be in. Basically, if it says Fang, Fang will be your narrator. WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE SERIES TO COME. Ahem. So, without further ado, Unbound._

 _Oh, and I own practically zilch, except for the minor OC's I'll need for literary support. Whoo._

* * *

 **Maximum Ride**

" _This ride that takes me through life leads me into darkness but emerges into light;  
_ _No one can ever slow me down. I'll stay unbound." - Unbound; Avenged Sevenfold_

* * *

I don't know what I was expecting. A 'thank you' would have been nice. A Hallmark card would have been a little corny. But maybe once in a while, some appreciation would make the world go round.

I mean, I'm only suppose to save the world.

I'm Maximum Ride. Fourteen and proud. Oh, yeah. And I can _fly_.

You see, it doesn't take a genius to look at my wings and think _hey, those look like they work_ , but it _does_ take a genius to fuse avian DNA with human DNA. I'm only ninety-eight percent _homo sapien_ , and that other two percent makes a big difference.

There's six of us: me, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the Gasman, and Angel. Six winged kids running around. As though one of us wasn't enough. But together, we form the flock—a dysfunctional family that brings a whole new meaning to the word "normal." We were born in test tubes and raised in cages in a place called the School, a laboratory made especially for us mutant children. In fact, we would still be there if it wasn't for a whitecoat scientist named Jeb, the man who rescued us from the barred life four years ago and hid us far away in the mountains of Colorado. Granted, he dropped off the face of the earth two years ago, but I guess it's the thought that counts.

Just us six again. Just the bird-kids.

Well, us six, plus the poor woman who got caught up in the middle of our fight for survival.

The brunette let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead, ducking just in time to inadvertently avoid the downward slash of the Eraser's claws. I swung my feet forward and kicked out as hard as I could. My sneakers introduced themselves to the Eraser's head and the wolfman went sprawling across the ground at the woman's feet. Another scream threatened to burst my eardrums.

See? That's the second Eraser I've taken out for her.

"Max! Look out!"

Nudge's voice, sharp but not frantic, rang out from my five o'clock. I tucked in my wings and dropped the last few feet to the ground, landing in a low crouch, feathers brushing the earth. Wind whistled as the Eraser swooped over me. I felt part of his claws slice through my hair as he passed.

Teeth gritted, I planted one foot firmly on the ground, arched my back, and lashed upwards with the other foot. The connection sent a shock wave up my leg and the Eraser howled in pain. He slammed against the ground, rolled end over end, and eventually bounced off the truck of a tree.

But he didn't stay that way.

Snarling curses and animalistic growls alike, the Eraser heaved himself to his feet, one wing askew at a painful-looking angle. Blood tricked through the thick fur covering his face, staining the gray and brown with a russet hue. Sharp fangs protruded from a slavering mouth. Facing an Eraser head-on like this was a sure-fire reminder of why it's better to leave well and good enough alone. At first Erasers were human-wolf hybrids, but once realizing that the flock could, well, _fly_ , then some brilliant whitecoat had the bright idea to sew on some patchwork wings and send them out to kill us. Again. A good thing for us—they weren't the most graceful mutants.

I didn't wait for him to attack; I lunged.

"Fang, get that woman out of here!" I yelled, landing a roundhouse kick smack-dab in the middle of the Eraser's chest. His back hit the tree with a _crack_.

"MAX!"

 _Angel_.

I whirled around.

My baby—my little girl—was surrounded by three Eraser seventy feet above me.

Six years old, and surrounded.

Save Angel and leave the woman completely vulnerable. Save the woman and leave Angel to the wolves. Literally.

I didn't see the blur until it collided with the Eraser before me. Iggy shot me a thumbs up as the Eraser dropped like a sack of bricks. Guess that ninety pounds of amped up bird-kid isn't too pleasant to take to the gut.

Sometimes, I forget that Iggy's blind.

When he laced his hands together and extended them towards me, I didn't hesitate. [Great minds think alike.] I took a few steps and planted my foot into his grasp. Iggy thrusted me into the air and over his shoulder, and I kicked off of the tree truck before taking to the skies.

Sometimes, a little boost is appreciated when it comes to saving lives.

Gazzy had come to Angel's aid before me. I had to swoop to one side to avoid a falling Eraser who clutched his face and let out high-pitched yelping. By the time I ascended to their side, Erasers Two and Three didn't seem too keen on being outmaneuvered _and_ outnumbered. If only they thought to retreat _before_ I started punching.

Welcome to your self-help manual on how to beat Erasers.

Step one: inflict damage.

The first punch knocked Eraser Two sideways into Eraser Three, whose clipped wings sent him spiraling out of control. The second punch caught Eraser Two full in the stomach and he emitted a sound similar to a wheeze or a dying Whoopee Cushion.

Step two: inflict more damage.

A final kick to the skull brought him down right on top his friend. Having just recovered from his spin-out, Eraser Three had no time to dodge his falling buddy and the two plummeted towards the ground in a heap of fur and feathers.

Step three: enjoy the carnage.

"Angel, Gazzy, you guys okay?" I asked, wiping blood off of my knuckles and onto my pants.

"Did you see me, Max? I was all— _bam!_ with those moves you showed me!" the Gasman said in excitement, a hint of laughter ringing in his voice. His entire body was coated in a thin layer of dirt that spiked the hair on his head and colored his white T-shirt tan.

At his side, Angel nodded. Blonde curls fell around her face in ringlets as dirty as her brother's hair. A jagged cut along the seam of her cream blouse exposed the white tank top underneath, but apart from a thin scratch trailing from the outside of her eyebrow down to her cheek, she looked unharmed.

Almost instinctively, my eyes fell to the clearing where the assault had first caught us. Iggy was helping Nudge to her feet, her arm thrown over his shoulders. The woman let out another shill cry before scrambling to her feet, swaying precariously, and fleeing into the dense underbrush lining the clearing. Fang-

Fang?

My gaze swept the clearing and what little I could see through the trees. No Fang.

Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Fang since the first Eraser dropped down on us.

"Sound off!" I said in a loud voice.

"All good!" The Gasman.

"Here." Angel.

"Nudge hit her head." Iggy.

"Ow." Nudge.

Still no Fang.

"Fang?" I called.

Zilch.

"This isn't funny!"

Nada.

Angel and Gazzy exchanged an uneasy glance. Even from this height, I could see Iggy's lips press themselves into thin lines. For once, the Nudge Channel wasn't running ninety miles an hour.

" _Fang!_ "


	2. Harudori Tsugumi

_Totally wasn't putting this off for... days? Heh heh. I do have to say that I never expected crossovers to get such little attention. I kinda feel like starting some sort of awareness campaign. XD Also, this chapter is quite possibly the shortest chapter I've ever written for any story EVER. Or, at least it WAS until I looked at the word count for the next chapter. Yup. And this chapter isn't even one thousand words long._

 _Painted: Shh! Not everybody knows me in real life! :P_

 _I own... like, zilch. Woo._

* * *

 **Harudori Tsugumi**

" _Is this more than you bargained for yet?"  
_ _\- Sugar We're Going Down Swinging; Fall Out Boy_

* * *

Two and a half years ago, my leg transformed into a blade and sunk into the hardwood floors of my house. Two years plus a few odd months ago, I became a student of Shibusen. Two years plus some weeks ago, I met my soon-to-be partners. Three weeks ago, a rogue soul-hunter came to Death City, evading Shibusen's every attempt to stop him. Two weeks ago, my partners and I accidentally bumped into this soul-hunter. Four days ago, we finished the necessary paperwork to get all three of us into the Especially Advantaged Talent classes. Three days ago, we joined the ranks of the upperclassmen.

In a better world, this would have been a good thing, like a promotion, but some days... I just hoped we could survive ourselves long enough to gather our first soul, much less ninety-eight others.

"Um... I don't think it's supposed to be boiling like that..."

Wiser words were never spoken, but Tatane Meme would have none of it. In fact, no sooner than I had spoken did Meme tip the last of the curious yellow liquid into the beaker. The steam emitted from the concoction turned dark green.

Anya Hepburn let out an exaggerated huff, yanking the flask from Meme's hand and setting it on the far corner of the table. "Honestly, Miss Meme. You should listen to Miss Tsugumi. The _blue_ liquid was suppose to go in next, not the yellow."

"Really?" asked Meme in honest surprise. "But I thought that it was..." She trailed off as she scanned the instructions again. "Oh—whoops!"

"You forgot?" Anya asked dryly.

"Yup!"

"But I thought that Shaula's venom had worn off," I said, frowning.

As though summoned by words alone, the witch in question flitted over to our table, a leery grin curling the corners of her mouth. Her purple and pink hair, braided back into its typical ponytail, glowed in the dim lighting of the potions class and made the liquid in the beaker look more gray than it should have been.

"You called, Princess?" Shaula Gorgon asked, clasping her hands innocently behind her back.

I tried to ignore the devious glint in her duel-toned eyes. "No."

"Wait, Tsugumi's a princess? I thought that was just you!" whispered Meme to Anya, the latter positively fuming. However, Meme's tight grip on the sleeve of Anya's dress prevented the other girl from launching herself over the table to strangle Shaula.

"Is your little friend having memory problems again?" Shaula's eyes slanted to Meme. "Well it certainly can't be _my_ fault. I haven't possessed anyone since our last mission in Dubai."

"You will not be possessing Miss Meme's body with your venom for a very long time, witchling." Anya's voice came out as a snarl.

A shadow fell over the entire table, including all four of the people around it. I swallowed despite myself.

"Girls, how's the sleeping draft coming along?"

Dark, resonant, and merciless. That was how I pictured Professor Vivica. Once the Witch Judge who worked second only to the Grand Witch Maba herself, now a respected teacher amongst the ranks of Shibusen's teachers; she taught most of the classes concerning specific skills that might be used by witches, but only to those who weren't magic-users themselves. The professor claimed that ignorance was this world's greatest flaw, and that in order to better the world for all of its occupants, knowledge must be shared and justice would follow.

All I really knew was that she scared the pants off of me from time to time.

"We may require a second attempt," admitted Anya, ever the unwavering voice of reason.

Professor Vivica bent at the waist, the sash of her red and orange kimono sweeping across the stone tabletop, and stuck the tip of one finger into the beaker.

The beaker exploded.

I screamed. Anya screamed. Shaula screamed. Meme burst out laughing. Professor Vivica withdrew her inflamed hand and extinguished it by snapping her fingers. One look at her disapproving expression told me that I should have brought an extra pair of gloves.

"Meme, Anya, Tsugumi—as the only two-meister team in E.A.T., I expected better. _Far_ better," said Professor Vivica in a contemptuous tone. "How can you possibly hope to render your enemy unconscious with something as unstable as this?"

For a moment, I wished for nothing more than the ability to transform into a halberd and tell Anya to use me to wipe that smirk off of Shaula's face. I _could_ , of course, but it would probably be a bad idea in the long run.

"Do it over. Start from scratch. And don't expect to leave my class until you can put me to sleep." The professor's glare bore into our eyes before she turned to Shaula. "Gorgon, aren't you suppose to be helping Medusa?"

Shaula took the hint, gathered herself, and bolted.

I suppose that's one good thing about Professor Vivica: all of the witches obey her without hesitation.

Running my hand through my short bangs, I turned to my meisters and offered a timid smile. Anya returned the smile with a somewhat distracted expression. Meme, the offspring of spontaneity and forgetfulness, picked up the sealed flask of yellow liquid and asked, "So we were suppose to use the yellow, right?"

My name is Harudori Tsugumi. I'm a demon weapon—a halberd—and my two meisters are Tatane Meme and Anya Hepburn; and today was my third day in the Especially Advantaged Talent curriculum at Shibusen. Somehow, it doesn't matter that we were transferred from the Normally Overcome Targets classes, nor that we got where we are now by saving our classmates from a soul-hunter.

I just hope that our tag-teaming strategy will work, especially since Lord Death himself gave us permission to transfer classes.

No pressure.


	3. Matoi Senketsu

_I wish I could blame the lateness of this chapter on something more convincing than my serious lack of a life right now. I.E. my inability to have a life because I'm so busy. DX So... surprise? Extra-short chapter to make up for this...? Extra-short chapter where I butcher the KlK canon?_

 _I own nil, though the concept introduced in this chapter is fairly... strange._

* * *

 **Matoi Senketsu**

" _Your name, your face, is all you have left now.  
Betrayed, disgraced, you've been erased." - Bitter Taste; Three Days Grace_

* * *

For most people, their older siblings looked out for them over the years—or drove them crazy. The elders were to be looked up to, respected, admired. These are the ideals of our world, yet I frequently found myself surprised by those so ignorant to other lifestyles, specifically that of mine and my sister's.

"Stupid jerks," muttered Ryuko, massaging her bare hand. A scowl adorned her countenance. I frowned. I didn't like seeing Ryuko unhappy, regardless how often it occurred.

"You shouldn't have done that, Ryuko," I said, falling into step alongside her. When her only reply was a heavy grunt, I shoved my hands in my pockets and resisted the urge to sigh. "Violence can't be the only solution you understand."

"They weren't listening so I decided to speak their language. Now get off my case," she said irritably.

Now I sighed.

The desert landscape loomed before us, a patch of orange dust amongst the upside-down sea of pale blue sky. White, foamy clouds floated along the horizon, framing the scenery like the strokes of a pearly box's edges. In fact, everything rather looked like a painting—too exact to be real, too dynamic to be original. The sun's cackle echoed out over the land, barely audible over the wailing of the wind as it wove its way through the meager buildings behind us. Yet despite the flatness of this picture, I could make out, through the storms of dust and heat, the dip in the ground and the pinnacle of the structures that lay within.

Death City was but a day's journey away.

"You ready?"

I pivoted to face Ryuko. My sister was in the process of teasing her motorcycle from the crack in which she had stuffed it upon arrival. We had come into town late last night—Demount was the last town before Death City—and, not trusting the locals, Ryuko had stashed it in the best hiding spot she could find: the dilapidated remains of a convenience store on the far side of Demount. Naturally, this meant that when she weaseled it out, a shower of dirt exploded over the two of us and sent Ryuko fumbling backwards, cussing and swiping at her face.

"Perhaps we should find a more appropriate place to leave the motorcycle next time," I suggested. Brushing some of the contamination aside, I cast my sister a wary glance. "Are _you_ ready, Ryuko?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ryuko replied in a grumble. She adjusted the pair of bright yellow safety glasses, which I knew doubled as sunglasses in the blazing light. Throwing one leg over the seat, Ryuko held out her hand impatiently.

I looked her over, the girl of sixteen. Dark hair, with a funny red streak caused by some unidentified genetic disorder, cut chin-length but growing more shaggy every day. Donning a red and white track suit, she didn't seem to mind the fact that the top only partially covered her stomach, or that her jogging pants had to be held up by suspenders. I could barely remember when her combat boots were actually white.

"C'mon, Senketsu. You're not getting cold feet, are you?" Ryuko asked with a hint of a smile.

I shifted into my weapon form. Ryuko caught me without falter and clipped me to the backside of her suspenders. At this angle, I could still catch a glimpse of Shibusen's rooftop in the distance. "Ryuko... Are you willing to go through with this?"

"Of course I am," she said. The slight arrogance in her tone was unmistakable. "We've come this far, haven't we?"

"That's not what I meant."

A moment later, the motorcycle's engine roared to life, but I could still hear Ryuko's haughty reply;

"I know."


	4. Maka Albarn

_Guess what lazy bum forgot to post the next chapter. C'mon, I know you can do it!_

 _I do not own Soul Eater, Kill la Kill, Maximum Ride, or any of the music heading each chapter._

* * *

 **Maka Albarn**

" _In your veins runs the blood of a Prince of the Gods;  
In so many ways, you are spawned from chaos." - Inheritance; Aeon_

* * *

I had been studying when it happened. One moment, the world of soul resonance engulfed me as I sought its knowledge. It frustrated me that I couldn't resonate with Soul after all of this time—though Witch Hunter was powerful, Mama had been able to pull it off no problem with Papa, and I wanted to do no less—so my dive had taken me in so deeply that I didn't hear Soul call for me the first four times. I didn't even hear him the fifth time, but that was because at that moment, the sky opened up and began to rain stars in the middle of the afternoon.

My book hit the top of the desk as the entire room began to vibrate. I bolted up from the chair, whirling around. All over the library, books toppled from the shelves, students screamed, and for once, no supervising teacher was present.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

"Maka!"

I heard him that time, but he reached me before I could react. Soul's hand closed around my arm—then he threw me to the floor. A bookcase crashed over the desk and chair at which I'd been working not seconds before, tossing hardbacks and paperbacks alike clear across the workspace. Soul's elbow crushed my gut; he'd fallen to the floor with me. But that wasn't what was on my mind.

It was raining stars.

Streaks of light colored the afternoon sky. They descended from a spiral of dark purple smog encircling the upper layers of the atmosphere. Bright—so bright!—and heading straight for Death City. I couldn't count how many, but it seemed like a lot.

Raining stars.

I wiggled free from Soul's weight and crawled on all fours over to the windows. Another bookcase came down right beside of me and a paperback hit me over the head. It hurt like crazy, but after accidentally putting Soul's blade through the top of my foot during an attempt at Witch Hunter, certain types of pain didn't seem as intense as before. This could have been why I didn't notice the pain immediately after the windows exploded inwards, showering shards around me much like the estranged precipitation outside. Only when I put my gloved palm to the floor and found a piece protruding from one finger did it register;

 _Throb. Throb._

But I was at the wall. The gaping window frames supported no glass to protect me from the merciless gale. Wind ripped out my pigtails, and soon my own hair dashed across my flesh. Blindly fumbling for my hand, I pulled out the glass shard and returned my wide-eyed gaze to Death City. The ground rocked so violently that everything blurred, but I could still make out the stars. Bright, beautiful, yet surrounded by a silhouette of darkness that looked suspiciously... human.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Another bookcase toppled, but before my reflexes could help me duck out of harm's way, a familiar body shoved mine to the floor. Glass pricked at my skin, the wind still persisting in its assault, but all that really registered was the crazed look in Soul's crimson eyes.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I never learned what words I'd been ready to say on an impulse, because the vibrations worsened, and with an ominous creaking and groaning, I felt the floor begin to bow beneath my feet. Now my training kicked in—I grabbed Soul's arm, and he needed no further prompting. He shifted just before the floor gave way, giving me enough time to sink the scythe blade into the window frame and throw one arm through the hole. With a tremendous crack, the floor dropped out from under me in a crumble of debris and books, leaving me swinging, clinging to my partner's shaft and the window sill.

A crunch echoed from my right; a crack appeared in the wall.

" _Crap,_ " Soul whispered.

Setting my jaw, I heaved myself upwards into the window ledge, consequently wrenching Soul's blade from the wood. I almost lost my balance, but it wouldn't have mattered much. My destination lay right beneath me—I jumped. Landing on the awning, I stabbed the fabric with the blade and used Soul to slow our descent to the ground, shredding the awning in the process. Rubble raced us to the ground. It fell all around and the sounds of its collision with the pavement below echoed off of the walls of Shibusen.

Then my boots hit the ground, only to discover that the vibrations had stopped, and so had the rain.

"Soul, are you okay?" I asked, opening my hand to allow him to change back.

But he didn't return to human form. " _Yeah, but your hand's looking pretty rough._ "

I risked a quick glance at it. A splotch of red colored the otherwise white material, having already colored the glove from the site of the wound up to the first knuckle. "It'll be fine. But Soul... the stars."

" _Stars?_ " His wavelength wavered. " _Maka, it's the middle of the day. Seems like an odd time to bring up stargazing._ "

"You didn't see them?"

" _...No._ "

I inhaled slowly. If I wasn't sure before, I was now.

" _And what made you run over to the windows like that? Do you have a death wish or something?_ "

My grip tightened of its own accord. "You couldn't seem them, the human silhouettes..."

" _Maka, this is reaching a whole new level of weird, even for you. Shouldn't we be worrying about seeing who's been injured? Stuff that we'd normally be doing in the event of a crisis..?_ "

"Soul... I don't think those were stars. I think—I think I was seeing... human souls."

It came out as a whisper, but my weapon partner fell silent almost instantly.

"Souls large enough to be seen from this distance, to create such broad streaks in the sky during the day..." I shook my head. "The earthquake and the falling souls have to be connected. But why would souls be falling from the sky? I can still sense them, but how can anyone be alive after a fall like that?"

" _People falling from the sky. Now there's something you don't see every day,_ " said Soul in a rather smug tone. " _What do you think it means?_ "

I hesitated, my gaze sweeping the remains of Death City. Shibusen wasn't the only structure to fall victim to the quake; skeletons of structures dotted the landscape, blending themselves into the remains of the tattered city.

"I don't know."


	5. Fang

_Another chapter... over a week late? Oh, well. Real life bites sometimes.  
_

 _Cats are my_ _World : Thank you! :)_

 _I own nothing apart from the HUMONGOUS bruise on my right shin. Ow._

* * *

 **Fang**

" _All we have to do is figure out how strong we are and what it takes to stay alive."  
\- Before My Body is Dry (Don't Lose Your Way); David Whitaker and Mika Kobayashi_

* * *

I didn't sign up for this. In fact, I distinctly remember _not_ signing up for this. One minute—a generally peaceful walk in the park with the flock. Gazzy lets one rip and tells himself off in Max's voice. Max gets mad and threatens to beat Gazzy within an inch of his life. Iggy laughs. Nudge comments on the scenery. Angel agrees with Nudge. Erasers fall from the sky.

 _Me_ falling from the sky was never a part of the agenda, but here I was.

A loud groan was the first thing I heard once the ringing in my ears died down, and it took me a few more seconds to recognize the voice as mine. Something jabbed itself into my back without regards for whether or not I may need that particular organ in the future. The lighting seemed off, like someone had stuck an orange filter over everything, or like I was suddenly wearing tinted sunglasses. Smog wrangled whatever clean air I might have considered breathing right out of my lungs and the sheer _taste_ of the air made me want to gag—but the smog wasn't the typical haze that blanketed major cities. There was something off about it... something I couldn't identify but was on the tip of my tongue...

Pain erupted in my back and I sucked in a breath just as quickly, and regretted it even faster when this caused the thing stabbing me in my lower back to bite harder through my shirt.

First thing was first; if Max had taught me anything, it was that staying in the same place for an extended period of time was suicidal, especially when injured.

Gingerly, I placed the hand that hurt the least upon the ground and began to feel around me. It looked as though I had fallen through the roof of a tailoring business, right into a discarded pile of fabric, though I sincerely doubted that the softness had been enough to break my thousand-mile fall. A knitting needle had punctured my lower back, barely missing my spine, but had only gone in about an inch or so. The hole in the ceiling looked relatively Fang-sized until the roof groaned and a few pieces of shingling, splinters, and dust showered down around me. Coughing, I pushed myself upright and brushed my fingertips along the knitting needle. I gave a moment to hope that it hadn't punctured anything too essential before I jerked it out. Before blood could start spilling all over the place, I tugged off the tattered remains of my shirt, gathered a long strip of cotton-based somethingorother, and tied it tightly around my midsection. Two strips later, I heaved myself to my feet and swept my gaze around the room.

Empty, apart from myself and the gigantic pile of fabric.

I ignored the faded yellow wallpaper and favor of locating the exits—a window to my immediate right, a door farther down, and double doors to my left. As I approached the window, I slowly unfurled my wings, only to wince and tuck them back against my body when a horrible pain shot through them both. Broken, most likely. Which led me to finally examine my other hand, the one that felt remotely like it had been run over by a tank. The index and middle fingers probably weren't supposed to bend in that direction; I set the breaks as best I could, but experience told me that my hand would be out of commission for another day at most.

The perks of fast healing.

But this meant that soaring out the window was out of the question.

Frowning, I thought to myself, _What would Max do?_ I'd never admit it to her face, but Max made a pretty awesome leader. Even at times when she didn't have a clue what to do, improv seemed her best skill, and it had saved the flock more times than I could count. Besides, she was fearless and had this impressive resolve. She never gave up. She never gave in. I would always follow Mother Teresa.

But Mother Teresa wasn't here, so it was my turn to improvise.

What would Max do?

I pried open the window and peeked out. First floor. Back alley. Not a soul in sight. _Perfect_. As a second thought, I grabbed a long sheet from the collection of fabric that had dampened my fall, throwing it around my shoulders; it was barely long enough to hide my wings. I tied it loosely around my neck. Bracing myself, I slid through the opening, feet tapping lightly against the broken concrete but still sending a ripple of pain up my spine.

Max's Guide to Ending Up in an Unfamiliar Place: Step One:

...What was step one again?

My hand instinctively raised to shield my eyes from the blinding sun.

The blinding, _laughing_ sun.

Oh, yeah. Step One: try to figure out if you've been here before.

I froze, eyes wide as I stared up at the sun.

It had a face. It had teeth bigger than the state of Texas. It had black eyes with white pupils. It had spikes that doubled as narrow mountains tall enough to daunt the Rockies.

And it _laughed_.

I fell speechless. I mean, what exactly one say about a _laughing sun_?

Step One completed;

I could safely say that I had never been here before.


	6. Blair

_Look, an update ON TIME! I'm not sure if I should feel proud of myself or worry about how long it will last. XD Also, I LOVE narrating from Blair's perspective!_

 _I own a Kill la Kill cosplay jacket that's very warm this time of year, but little more._

* * *

 **Blair**

" _So hold your head high, don't let them ever define the light in your eyes. With style and grace, kick ass and take names.  
Love yourself; give 'em hell. You can take on this world. You just stand and be strong, and then fight like a girl."  
\- Fight Like a Girl; Bomshel_

* * *

I was torn. Maka and Soul trusted me [kind of] to watch the apartment when they were away at their little academy. As a Monster Cat, it's not like I could attend—something about how those with monster souls were considered "inhuman" and "frightening"—so when I wasn't on private missions for Lord Death (take _that_ , scaredy-humans!) or working at Chupa Cabra's for a little extra cash, I generally stayed home and found a good patch of sunlight.

But now the entire apartment was coated in a good patch of sunlight. And I was torn between basking in it and seeing if the person who crashed through the roof needed any help. People from Shibusen fell through roofs all the time, so it _could_ have been some weird sort of training, for all I knew, but if it was a random stranger who didn't attend the academy, nerd-girl and my scythey boy might get mad at me.

"Oh, why does life have to be so hard for a cat?" I whined, picking my way through the rubble. "Hey, you! Are you okay? Does Blair need to patch you up with some pumpkin magic?"

"Did somebody say _magic?!_ "

Suddenly, a young teenager stood directly in front of me. Chin-length brown hair had been frazzled and layered with shingles, insulation, twigs, and even a mushroom. Wild amber eyes locked themselves with my own yellow ones as she clamped down on my upper arms with hands far stronger than they should have been for a normal human.

"You're not some kind of witch, are you?!" the girl gasped.

It was all so sincere and dramatic that I had to giggle. "More like a very magical cat."

The girl's train of thought (and happiness) ground to a halt as she pondered this. Her face scrunched up, furrowing lines deep enough to plant something. Then she erupted into laughter.

"A magical cat-witch? That is _so cool!_ My name's Mankanshoku Mako! What's your name, kitty?" she asked eagerly.

"I'm Blair," I replied, frowning. The only people I typically let call me 'kitty' were cute men who fell all over themselves trying to get to me, or tried to resist me. This Mako character was cute, but most definitely not a man.

"Blair-senpai, did you see those people falling from the sky? I've never seen people fall from the sky before! Have you? It was totally awesome but totally scary, all at the same time! I mean, what if somebody got hurt? What it somebody fell on somebody else's head? _What if somebody fell on someone falling on somebody else's head?!_ "

"That sounds a bit..." I paused, searching for the right word, but somewhat distracted by being called 'senpai.' Chan was the most common honorific associated with me—or san, depending on the person—unless Lord Death kept referring to me as Imouto. For a grim reaper stationed in the United States, he sure was keen to revert to Japanese culture a whole lot.

"Catastrophic?!" Mako shrieked, her grip tightening.

"But didn't you fall from the sky, little girl?"

"Nah. I fell off the neighboring roof because of the earthquake. And my name's Mako!" she huffed, finally releasing me to cross her arms.

I wandered over to what had once been a window, gazing out at the remains of Death City. It struck me that there wasn't a building higher than the apartment complex's five stories anywhere near, but my brain refused to focus on this, because a good third of the city had been leveled. Buildings littered the street all around, and as far as I could see, very few buildings remained standing if they were over three stories tall, the exception being Shibusen, which still looked as though it had seen better days. A few spikes were missing from the academy's architecture, one candle drooped almost out of sight, and one of the main towers framing the outermost edges of Shibusen had fallen victim to the earthquake.

"Hey, Mako," I said quietly. "You mentioned people falling from the sky. What people?"

"The people falling from the sky like skydivers who'd forgotten their parachutes!" she responded, skipping over to my side. "There were so many, it's like it was raining men!" On that note, the girl burst into song, and I began to mourn the days I respected the Weather Girls.

One poof of violet smoke later, and my catty self was prancing along the cobblestone towards the academy.

"Oi! Oi oi oi oi oi oi oi! Blair-senpai, wait up! Oh, wow, you really are a cat!" Mako fell into step beside of me, but I almost stopped dead in the middle of the road.

I blinked. I looked up at the apartment's remains. I looked at Mako. I looked up _five stories_ at Soul and Maka's place. I looked at Mako. I looked around the block to find it vacant except for us. I looked at Mako.

I shrugged. There were far weirder things going on than a mysterious girl jumping five stories down after a shape-shifting, magical feline.

"Of course I'm a cat," I sniffed. "Did you ever doubt me?"

We walked along the street at a brisk pace. A part of me was worried about my scythey boy, a part of me wanted to get out of the house so I couldn't be blamed, another part of me wanted to be useful and help others recover, and a part of my feline curiosity wanted to search out these other falling people. Though I had my suspicions about Mako flying from a far-away building, I kept them to myself. No sense in getting my fur ruffled over something the eccentric girl might not have even noticed.

"Where do you live, Mako?" I asked.

"Right over..." She whirled around. "Um, right over... There-ish? No, wait. There? Hold on... Where am I?"

I sighed, though it came out as more of a hiss. "Death City is a fairly large place. What part of town are you from?"

"South," Mako said, increasing her pace to catch up with me. "My mama was a meister at the academy, so we live pretty close to the grand staircase."

"Really? A meister?" I returned to human form without really noticing it. "What kind of weapon did she wield?"

"Tonfa blasters! She was really good, too!"

"Did she ever make her partner into a death scythe?"

"No... She wanted to get married but had over fifty souls left to collect, so as soon as she found her partner a new meister, she left Shibusen. I never knew what happened to her partner. Never got to meet her."

For small talk, this was actually fairly interesting. Conversing with women didn't appeal to me all that much, but this Mako seemed to know a bit about the academy, which most certainly perked my ears. It took ninety-nine corrupt souls and one witch soul to transform a demon weapon into a death scythe, but with rogue witches in short supply, it had become more and more difficult over the years to make weapons powerful enough to be wielded by Lord Death. To date, there were only five death scythes in the entire world, and I'd only met one of them (though he was quite the flatterer). If only the souls of soul-hunters would do the trick; the world never seemed to run low on them.

A low moan reached my ears, and I stopped dead. Closing my eyes, I inhaled slowly, drinking in the scents, bathing my sense of smell in the distinct sea of aromas. Fish, smoke, insulation, watermelon, dust, blood, Tabasco sauce-

"Blood?" My eyes shot open. I followed the scent over to the crumpled form of what might have been a wooden platform. It reeked of watermelon and blood. A soft cough was heard.

"There's somebody under there!" Mako said in astonishment, then thrust her finger into the air and loudly declared, "Hold on! Mako the Brave will save you!" and before my eyes, the girl wrenched a large post out of the ground, chucked it over her shoulder, and continued digging. I levitated the more tedious bits of wreckage out of her way as she frantically flung bits and pieces of everything imaginable in all directions until, at long last, a person could be made out under the last beam. We grabbed it together and heaved it aside.

The girl coughed again, sitting up and running a hand through hair so dark a shade of brown that it could have been black. Her eyes—a beautiful brown, almost colorless, that I could have sworn shown gray in direct sunlight—large and puzzled, peered up at me for a moment before shock flooded the chocolate depths. Her hands went to every inch of her body, poking and rubbing, until she seemed satisfied that she had all of her body parts intact. Then, and only then, did her gaze turn wary.

"Hi there, little girl," I purred in what I hoped was a soothing voice. I called everything little. People, concepts, places—everything was an equal-opportunity littler. Perhaps it was my natural affinity towards those younger than me, like how a queen's instinct is to take in all kittens, even those that aren't hers. Or at least, that was what some psychic at Shibusen had told me while attempting a spell that allowed them to see three seconds into the future. "Are you hurt?"

The girl looked as though I had asked her to strip naked and play in a pit of vipers. She couldn't have been more than fourteen, but when her frightened voice cried out, she sounded more in the range of ten or eleven;

" _Max!_ "


	7. Tezca Tlipoca

_Somehow, writing Mysterious Bear was simultaneously difficult and fun. Also, there's an AN at the end of this chapter that explains a few things that might catch your attention.  
_

 _GhostLucy : I suppose that blending together three (four?) fandoms can be a bit of a stretch when it comes to characters. __Personally, I keep mixing up Mako and Maka's names. But i_ _f you have any questions in particular, don't be afraid to ask!  
_

 _I own... nothing. Because I am a broke university student. Yup._

* * *

 **Tezca Tlipoca**

" _Passion chokes the flower 'til she cries no more, possessing all the beauty, hungry still for more."  
\- Silence (Delirium); Sarah McLachlan_

* * *

For a monkey, Enrique made the best damn partner a weapon could ever have. Told fan-freaking-tastic jokes, cooked like nobody's business on the days when he didn't shed, and could teach Muay Thai to a brick wall. I would kill for that guy's sense of humor if I wasn't so attached to him. However, after being summoned by Lord Death, only I could pass through the looking glass in the Death Room because someone with half a brain had to stay in South America to keep the demented jaguars under control, but that's a tale for another time. Long story short, I didn't like being away from Enrique for long. Aside from Lord Death, he was the only one I could trust with my identify—and the knowledge that I survived an assassination plot in the first place. A word to the wise: Don't piss off a coven of revenge-driven witches. They will hunt you down, rip off your head, and attempt to bind your soul to your worst nightmare for all of eternity... and that's just their little appetizer. Thank God I escaped.

Rambling. It happens to the best of us.

"Still the active death scythe?" I asked Spirit Albarn upon his entrance. The poor guy looked more ragged than a patchwork hand-me-down. Dark under-eye circles, crazy hair, stooped posture—you name it, the guy had it. The century-old petticoat wasn't doing him any justice, either. "Are you wearing one of your ex-wife's old coats?"

Instead of replying, Spirit heaved a sigh.

"How bad is it out there?" I waved a hand in the general direction of the guillotine hallway.

"Pretty bad." Another sigh. "A fifth of the buildings are permanently out of commission, twenty-eight people are missing, three confirmed dead, and my Maka still hasn't called." Sniffle. Sigh.

"No news is good news when it comes to independent kids," I offered. "Has she ever called you to tell you that she survived something strenuous before?"

"...No? But shouldn't she? I'm her Papa."

I patted the man on the shoulder, careful to avoid knocking off my large bear-head mask. "She's also a teenager, and in my younger days, I was quite the steadfast brat. Take a deep breath, pops, and remember that she _could_ be doing drugs, having sex, and stuffing twenties in her bra."

This was probably the wrong thing to say (I hadn't exactly seen Spirit since the divorce, or even months before), but I didn't realize it until the man burst into hysterical tears and collapsed onto the floor, screaming out his daughter's name.

God, I missed Enrique. Where the hell was that primate when I needed him?

"Ah, Mysterious Bear! Hello! Hiya! How ya doing?" A slow pivot rewarded me with the image of Lord Death in his looking glass. Jagged black robes that swaddled an incomprehensible form pooled on the floor of the dark room from which he was speaking (perhaps the cellar of the school). The goofy mask was still in place, but I didn't need to see a smile to know happiness when I heard it. From one masked entity to another, you know?

"Optimistic as ever, Lord Death," I said respectfully. "We'll need that."

Some time ago, the two of us silently agreed to avoid using my real name in the presence of others. It wasn't so much that no one could be trusted, but that I didn't want to put anyone in danger. Although, to this day, I've always had this sneaking suspicion that somehow, some way, that creepy leader of the witches knew everything about me without even trying. What am I saying? All witches creep me out. Their magic turns them into psychos if they don't learn to control it. Rogue witches are about as dangerous as they come, second only to an actual Kishin, but since Lord Death defeated the only Kishin to have ever existed-

There's got to be a cure for rambling, right? I just have to look.

"Thank you for getting back to me, Mysterious Bear. You and Spirit... Spirit?"

I nudged the death scythe with a toe. "Yo, Spirit. For Maka's sake, we need your brain right about now. Thanks."

At the mention of "his flawless and incredible Maka," Spirit bolted to his feet and assumed an almost human presentation. The transformation was almost as efficient as a shift into weapon form.

"Ahem. As I was saying," continued Lord Death, "you and Spirit are the only two death scythes I could convene on such a short notice. As such, it will be your duty to do three things. One: Help clean up Death City in every way your power permits. Two: Protect the city and in the event that this happens again, I'll need you two to be able to execute an emergency plan to prevent further damage done to the innocent. Three... three: Spirit, you are to remain at my side at all times, and Bear, you're to act as mine as Spirit's eyes and ears in Death City. We're still trying to determine the cause behind the falling people and the earthquake—the witches have been discussing this since the occurrence—but it doesn't hurt to have an extra mind in play. Until the witches come up with a plausible reason, plan for the worst but hope for the best. Understood?"

"Understood," Spirit and I said in unison, but something didn't set too right with me.

"Lord Death, what about the other three death scythes? Why couldn't they make it?"

"Oceania is giving Marie a particularly rough time as of late, Azusa's been backed up for weeks, and Justin..." I swallowed the knot on my throat. "Well, Justin seems to be in the middle of dealing with a certain bothersome coven that you'd be familiar with."

Had I not already been standing, I would have leaped to my feet. "Justin's dealing with the European Union all on his own?!"

"There's no need to shout," Lord Death said, a bit primly if I might add. "He's actually assisting a select group of students who desire to make their demon weapons into death scythes. There's nine total, and with Justin tagging along, that makes ten. They'll be fine!"

I had half a mind to tell him to reconsider his definition of 'fine,' but held my tongue. Justin was suppose to protect the students, not the other way around.

I could have really used a smoke right about then.

"Any leads on the weirdness in Death City?" I asked, trying to change the subject before I changed my mind.

"Five of the falling people have been recovered—two women, a newborn child, a man who claims to be a scientist working for this school, and something I'd like you to see."

"Some _thing_?" I would have raised my eyebrows, but it would have been pointless.

But it wasn't Lord Death who answered.

"A hybrid." Franken Stein fell into line at my side. "A mix of human genes and genes of a different species—in this case: wolf. I had a look at the specimen once Sid and Nygus locked it in the cellar. A fine subject, but I'd need to open it up to know more."

Meh. Stein. Not my favorite person, but not my least favorite person by far.

"We won't be dissecting any of the victims today, Stein, but I appreciate the update. Do we have any leads on who's grafting together the DNA?" Lord Death asked, since anything Spirit had been about to say had been successfully silenced by the appearance of Stein. Apparently, the two had some kind of history, and it hadn't been too pleasant from Spirit's perspective. Maybe that's part of the reason why the guy's so erratic.

Stein ran a hand through his mess of gray hair, fingers twisting around the head of the screw, as though debating whether or not it needed to be turned. "Nothing conclusive, but whoever it is, I would certainly like to have a word with them. That scientist is the most suspicious, but assuming anything could lead to more problems."

"What about the other three people?" I asked, determined not to be butted out of the conversation. If there was one pet peeve of mine, it was to be forgotten in the middle of conversing.

"The child's mother is nowhere to be found, so until it's claimed, it'll stay in the Death City Orphanage for now," said Lord Death, somewhat sadly. "One of the women found is horribly injured and has yet to awaken; she could very well never wake up. The other woman seems to be under the impression that she's lost her daughter, a twelve-year-old girl named Ella."

"Wasn't the earthquake a tragedy enough?" muttered Spirit. "Now families are being separated?"

"These are hard times, Spirit," Stein said without console. "You and your daughter are lucky."

"Lucky?! I haven't heard from my Maka since last week!"

"She went with Black*Star to pull students out of Shibusen's collapsed wings. I ran into them on my way here."

" _Maka!_ " Spirit wailed. " _Your papa loves you!_ "

"Stein, I'd like for you to assist Mysterious Bear in patrolling the city. Do what you can to help; report anything suspicious immediately," said Lord Death. "One last thing: good luck to you all."

* * *

 _ **AN:** So, in this AU where witches aren't typically evil, there are less Death Scythes because there are less witches around to kill. The European Union is not the EU everyone knows from history class, but an elite group of rogue witches; in this story, they are the ones who tried to assassinate Mysterious Bear. And for those of you who picked up on it: yes, this story DOES generally follow the Soul Eater manga moreso than the anime (I can't even remember if Mysterious Bear appeared in the anime...).  
_


	8. Matoi Ryuko

_The longest wait EVER for the second-to-shortest chapter. Sigh... -_- I promise the next one will be longer, guys._

 _Soul Eater, Maximum Ride, and Kill la Kill are the properties of people who are not me. Yup._

* * *

 **Matoi Ryuko**

" _I will carry hell to your doorstep. You will rue the day. You will reap the hate you've sown no matter how hard you pray. It's a place without any mercy, fashioned in cold blood.  
Stones of fear and stones of doubt—no forgiveness, no way out." - Hell to Your Doorstep; Thomas Borchert_

* * *

Death City. Built in Death Valley by Death himself. And within its towering structures lay Death's precious academy—oh, wait. It didn't really look like those buildings towered any more.

I smirked.

The motorcycle poised itself at the city limits, and like some sort of omen, everything outside of town lay untouched, unblemished. Only Death City lay in ruin, razed to the ground from above and below. It was kind of fitting. _This_ was what the academy got when it sheltered witches, encouraged them to use their powers, helped them learn "control" so that their magic could be used for the sake of good. What a load of fairytale bullshit. _I_ knew the difference. _I_ knew better. And like a red carpet rolling out at greet me, chaos had already had its way. This would make my task so much easier. With everything in shambles, the witch who killed my father and stole his creation wouldn't be able to hide behind the academy's walls.

I wondered if Death knew he was sheltering a murderer.

"Hey, Senketsu. I think karma's on our side." I couldn't help but snicker.

" _Don't get cocky, Ryuko,_ " warned Senketsu. " _You can't see souls, and I'm almost positive that over a fourth of the people involved in Shibusen's business can._ "

"But _you_ can sense souls, so if you feel her wavelength, you can point me in the right direction," I said hastily. Shifting with my foot, I allowed the motorcycle to putter into town. Dodging the gaping cracks in the road was a bit difficult, but nothing I couldn't handle. Senketsu, on the other hand, kept fidgeting in his clip and loosening my suspenders with every twitch—it was driving me crazy. "And will you cut it out back there? I feel like I'm being molested..."

" _Apologies. I can't help but feel a bit uneasy about arriving out in the open. Doubtlessly, Shibusen will be searching for answers so a new weapon-meister pair might throw up a few flags._ "

"We won't let them find out you're a kamui, okay? Relax. Just don't release your Soul Protect and we'll be fine," I grumbled. "Quit your nagging."

" _So long as_ you _don't declare your intentions to the world again,_ " he reminded, voice tinged with amusement more than anything.

"Yeah, yeah..."

Death City had looked so much grander in pamphlets, but I guess the earthquake had something to do with that. White walls, red roofs, with little variation in between. Architecture was as boring as it got when I had come close enough to taste victory, but after Senketsu bit me last month for trying to backtrack through what was definitely not a window, I decided that it was better to be bored than have to pass off odd teeth marks as drunken tattoos for a week. Brothers...

When we reached the first flight of steps, I tucked the motorcycle in a back alley that didn't look too damaged before proceeding. At Senketsu's request, I took a less common path via rooftops, fixing my suspenders once I reached the top of the fire escape. One rooftop blended into the next until I reached yet another ascending level, and another, and another, and-

"Jesus! What is it with this place and stacking crap sky-high?" I snapped, mostly for the sake of releasing frustration. "This really pisses me off!"

" _Ryuko, your blood is beginning to boil. Keep this up and anyone within a two-mile radius will be able to sense your aggression._ "

"I swear to God, if you bite me again-"

" _I have no need when your wavelength becomes so hazardous._ "

I tsked loudly and approached the edge of the roof. With no one in sight, I grabbed the ledge and vaulted down onto the roof of a produce stand, thumping to the ground a moment later. Plucking a lemon from the stand, I continued up the steps, trying to smother my annoyance.

Senketsu was right, as he always was. I wanted to find the witch who killed our father, take back what was stolen, and leave her six feet under if she didn't give me a good reason not to. It would be kinda hard to do that if the stupid academy put a student army between me and my goal. For now, luck was on my side, so I should take advantage of the anonymity for as long as I could.

That damn witch was gonna pay.


	9. Tabitha Snow

_Another update - hooray! :D As promised, this chapter is almost four times longer than the previous chapter, but this is the first chapter from an OC's perspective... and the first chapter with an OC in general. Canon characters are mentioned, but this is mostly to clear up some of the things that were changed in order to mesh the universes together.  
_

* * *

 **Tabitha Snow**

" _You called me strong, you called me weak, but still your secrets I will keep."  
\- Kryptonite; 3 Doors Down_

* * *

For those of us in the NOT class, life pretty much continued as normal for the next few days, the exception being those of us who got permission to leave class to help clean up the town for community service hours. I got my slip signed because I wanted an excuse to fix my neighbor's porch, which had been bugging me half to death over the past two years. Not level, nailed where it should have been bolted, painted like the clumsy attempts of a four-year-old—this is what I got for being the daughter of an artist and a carpenter. My twin, Vivian, on the other hand, chose to stay in class and bring home my assignments for me.

Bless her socks.

"'Types of souls and their rarities,'" I mused, eyes scanning the papers as I wiped sweat from my eyes. Sunlight glinted off of the tools scattered haphazardly around me, almost as blinding as the scalding sun above. Some days, it seemed like it was laughing at me instead of laughing in general.

"I know what a monster soul is," said Vivian. She was, in no way, condescending. Just blunt. Kind of like me, except that I can't tell a lie, so I don't really have a choice. Whereas I was cursed, Vivian spoke candidly out of respect. Sometimes, having a twin really rocked.

"That's a soul with quote-on-quote 'monstrous' qualities, right?" I asked, halfheartedly paying attention. I used my hand-turned-whip to seize the hammer from the top rail, put it in my other hand, and hold the bolt still while I hammered the stuck peg out. A roundabout way of getting it accomplished, but it was that or a pressure washer. How Master got _el cheapo_ peg of a particleboard assembly stuck in the hole, I had no clue; how the porch hadn't collapsed before now, I also had no clue. I swear, for a thirty-something-year-old man, he certainly didn't do _any_ yard work, fixing porches included. Did he consider running the Deathbucks Cafe his only productivity during the day? "Like ghosts or shapeshifters."

"Correct." Vivian flopped down on the ground next to me. "Human souls?"

"Standard-issue souls. Generally not magical, unless they're a demon weapon and are on their way to becoming a Kishin." I grunted in irritation upon realizing I'd accidentally gripped the pole too hard and stuck my bladed edges into the wood. I shifted back momentarily to untangle myself, then slid a temp rod in place. If only I could have been a normal whip, "urumi problems" wouldn't happen.

"Seven types of human souls?"

"Warrior, artisan, king, sage, scholar, server, priest."

"Describe them."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"You do realize that I have to finish this porch before Master gets home, right? I have two more hours, max, and I still have to restructure this corner, paint it, _and_ get it to dry."

She shot me a roughish grin. "Better practice your multitasking then."

I inhaled deeply. For someone only capable of telling the truth, it kinda sucked when you memory liked to dig pitfalls when you weren't paying attention. Shoving one shoulder under the floor of the porch, I used a rubber mallet to knock the old post out of the way.

"Server—those doing what's best for everyone as a whole, but can lose sense of oneself and be easily overrun. Artisan—the creative soul, but prone to succumb to artifice. This is me, but since I can't lie…" Vivian stuck her tongue out at me and pushed the new post into position. I smiled and continued. "Warrior—the persuasive soul that motivates, but can impose their will a bit too strictly. Scholar—the learned soul who collects knowledge from the surroundings, but can become lost in hypothetical theories. Sage—the soul with the best sense of communication, but can get a little wordy from time to time, like the boy who cried wolf. Priest—the epitome of motivation to get others to strive for the best, but is generally overzealous and fanatical. King—possesses absolute leadership skills, but may become a tyrant."

"You gave me an example of an artisan soul and a sage soul. Give me examples for the rest."

"Scholar: Death the Kid," I said with a small laugh. We had a class together (it was the only EAT class in which I was allowed because it was pretty much the only thing I could do. "Priest: Lord Death, if he was a human. Warrior: Maka Albarn. Server: Professor's Medusa's kid… but I can't remember a name…"

"Keep going." Vivian exchanged positions with me so that I could work the tools. We had learned a long time ago that mixing Vivian with a power-tools was a very bad idea. Years later, I still wouldn't let her work the mixer; anytime she wants to bake a cake, _I_ mix the batter.

"King… Um…" I grabbed the drill, sat on the ground, rematerialized my hand, and instead braided together my legs into a single cord that I wrapped around the post. Tightened my grip on drill and post, I pressed the bit to the wood. "I can't think of a good example for someone with a king soul. There are souls similar to the qualifications, but none are an exact match."

"Professor Vivica?"

I snorted. "You're horrible, but correct, now that I think about it." The drill gnawed away a hole big enough for the new bolt. I place it in the hole, tapped it in place with the rubber mallet, and grabbed a nut and washer.

"What about the perceptive inputs?"

"Scholars, kings, and warriors use one input channel, which can make soul resonance difficult. Resonating with anyone other than their partner can prove nearly impossible, especially if their wavelengths are very different. _But_ single channel enables them to maintain a clear mind amidst chaos because they don't have so much to cloud their perception. Priests and servers use two channels, one tuned to the immediate situation and another tuned to the common good. They're capable of forcing their souls to change their wavelengths to match another's if it's for the greater good, which makes them powerful opponents when motivated."

Once the bolt had been secured, I started another hole.

"But if Lord Death has a priest type soul, how is he so powerful?" Vivian prompted.

"As a reaper, his soul is naturally more powerful than any human's and years of experience is what enables him to match his wavelength to that of his weapons. However, the weapons have to strong enough to handle Lord Death's power, which is why only death scythes can be wielded. If a lesser weapon tried to resonate with Lord Death, they would be seriously injured. Plus—reaper."

"Which is why Lord Death doesn't teach classes, much less those that involving _showing_ the students how to resonate. And the other human soul types?"

"Sages have three channels: immediate situations, how they resonate within their own soul, and what the souls of their 'audience' are doing. Sages can be the most powerful resonating partner if properly trained because their instinct is to be true to themselves _and_ accept the opinions of others, all the while using these connections to deal with their problems. Artisans are the most diverse, having five connections. They can match soul wavelengths with almost anyone, and sometimes even without the other person having to change their frequency at all. Artisans are the glue that holds together a large group of people because they see the world from so many different perspectives. They have one input from immediate situation, and four more for dealing with other problems. However, because they have so many inputs, they can become easily distracted and lose their resonance rate with people who aren't their partner."

"Color associations?"

"Priest: purple. Artisan: indigo. Sage: blue. Server: green. Scholar: yellow. King: orange. Warrior: red."

"Good job, now enough about human souls. You have all that stuff down-pat," Vivian said, crawling out from under the porch as per my instructions. It held, and I let out an excited whoop. "What are the strongest souls of every creature, from least to greatest?"

"Human, monster, hybrid, witch, reaper."

"Nope."

I had been in the process of prying the lid off of the paint bucket, but stopped dead. Running my mind through my notes, I frowned. "What do you mean 'nope'?"

"The strongest of all the souls isn't called a reaper soul. Lord Death _is_ a grim reaper, but that's not what the soul is called."

"It isn't?" I asked, curiosity nibbling away.

It was hard to ignore the mischievous gleam in her silver eyes as she leaned forward and said, "In class today, we learned about the strongest soul type, so powerful it's almost considered godlike. Tabby, have you ever heard of a _kamui soul_?"


End file.
